


Will of the Infernos

by HowAboutThatSnapback



Series: The Inferno of Revolution [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Gen, Implied Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, Inferno AU, could be Alexander Hamilton/George Washington if you squint, i have no idea how to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:07:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26517934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowAboutThatSnapback/pseuds/HowAboutThatSnapback
Summary: The Infernos are not born, but rather they are made. George Washington watches Alexander Hamilton become the same as him.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton & George Washington
Series: The Inferno of Revolution [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1881436
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Will of the Infernos

_Inferno are the embodiment of the divine will of God._

_Pg. 15, Inferno Pope Innocent III_

_Not a soul breathes a word about the beautiful agony that an Inferno must endure before they are born. [illegible] not meant to be held in man and yet the Inferno stand on the precipice and survive.  
The cost of such divinity is unending drive until either their goal is reached or they die.  
I wonder which will douse my flame?_

_-Pg. 54, Inferno Napoleon Bonaparte_

_There are countless Infernos in the world, many whose names did not go down in history. Mine own name shall be lost to the sands of time [illegible] -even mine own people shall forget my name. Generations will remember me, but soon it will fade.  
Those who make their names known throughout history have [illegible] done terrible things._

_-Pg. 172, Unknown Inferno Cir. 364 B.C._

_-Journals of the Infernos  
Multiple Author_

When he first met Alexander Hamilton, he couldn’t help but notice how scrawny he was and how much Fire was in his eyes despite not being an Inferno. He decided at once he would keep an eye on the boy and stoke his Fire as subtly as possible. This boy would be going places, soaring to heights that most Infernos dream of. Washington is sure of it.

Over time, he notices, Hamilton does not buckle with at direct eye contact, he does not stumble when given commands and he even begins to fight back when orders do not go make any sense to him. He wonders if any Infernos have met each other in the past and if they had, how the interaction went about and evolved. Has another Inferno watched another be created? Had the privilege of helping create one? He is unsure as he has not seen any writings stating so. Regardless he finds it fascinating.

Lieutenant General George Washington knew long before he became an Inferno that they were not born with fire so hot in their soul that it reaches their eyes, but rather that flame is fueled until it does. It is subtle at first, the fire being stoked, but in an explosion, it overwhelms to the point of euphoric agony. His belief in something that he had not seen was… lacking until he faced it himself.

Now he carries the entire war effort, every soldier’s hopes of victory and dreams for after the war rests on his shoulders. Had he not had the ironclad will that the Fire brought him he was sure that he would crumble under such a weight. There is no doubt in his heart that they will not come out of this war victorious. He _knows_ the British will be driven off and the colonies will have the freedom to become a nation. He wonders, from time to time, if this is how every Inferno felt. The strength and assurity of the future that he feels now.

Even now in the face of the enemy he feels the Fire course through him and urge him forward. His orders are roared to bring courage to his men and fear to his enemies. It was a powerful feeling and made the battle around them thrill like music in his blood. He’s fought in many battles before this revolution; however, he’s never felt such headiness before. He would deny if he could but in truth, he found himself in love with the war around him.

Regardless, he acted with caution despite the recklessness some deep part of him wanted to partake in with the thrum of power in his veins. He needed to harness this gift correctly if they were going to win and he’d be damned if he used it as a plaything. He likes to think he’s done well by the time he finds himself needing a right-hand man to take over his correspondence.

The boy he chose to be his aide-de-camp turned out to be one of the best decisions he's ever made. The boy's letters to Congress were eloquent and unrelenting, leading to the acquirement of many supplies and men. With every triumph his Fire grows brighter, and Washington comes to the conclusion that he will not be ready to take command of a battalion until after his Ignition. He doesn't explain it to Hamilton despite his growing frustration as revealing the truth might regress the stoking of his Fire.

It seems his tempering of the young man has ended...

Washington sweeps into the tent acting as the administration office and his gaze sweeps over his men. There is only one man missing and it is who the man is that startles him. Hamilton works from health into sickness and through it. He has not seen the man miss a day when he was not out on an assignment. He hasn’t sent Hamilton to do anything except rest.

“Laurens,” he barks.

The young man comes to attention. “Yes, sir?”

“Where is Hamilton?”

“He is in our quarters sick.”

The worried tone in his voice is enough for Washington to know the truth. He recalls Martha hovering over him anxiously as he was pinned to their bed by some unseen force. He was not weak, but he could not find the strength for anything other than to lie in bed. Those had been moments- or perhaps hours?- spent both wanting to die and for the pain to never end. It was a contradicting feeling, but there was nothing else like it.

“Take me to him,” he orders quietly.

Laurens stutters out a “yessir” and rushes towards the tent he, Hamilton, and a few other aide-de-camps share. Laurens looks as if he wants to run to his friend’s side if it weren’t for propriety holding him back. There was no battle and if he ran for no reason with the General on his heels, it would spread panic in the men. Best to avoid any such things. Regardless, they keep a brisk pace.

As Washington enters the tent, he finds Hamilton is lying in bed covered in sweat and moaning with a mixture of pleasure and discomfort. His ceaseless shifting brings about his own memories of his Ignition. The entire experience was unforgettable, and he imagines Hamilton will face this as well.

Laurens shifts behind him, bright eyes filled with concern.

Washington steps forward and settles on the edge of his cot careful not to touch an inch of skin. Half-crazed eyes roll towards him, but this is all of the movement left in him. He looks as if he is pinned in place by the lack of movement otherwise.

“Rest easy, son,” Washington says.

Hamilton’s eyes close. He is probably hardly aware of anything happening around him and likely barely registered his general’s words.

“Are you sure you should be in here, your Excellency?” Laurens asks.

“I am. Go back and take charge of the other aides. I’ll stay here with Hamilton,” Washington orders.

The young man nods and his concerned eyes dart momentarily towards his friend before he turns and exits the tent.

Washington looks down on Hamilton with sympathy in his heart. He doesn’t know how much time passed with his own Ignition nor does he have knowledge of the average time it takes for said Ignition to occur, but he knows he cannot leave this young man alone in this time. It is an ingrained sense that perhaps is rooted in his soul that he should be by his side until he is an Inferno. Much like a mother hovering over their child, he stays in place and provides soothing words of assurance and encouragement. He cannot bring himself to stop praising Hamilton’s strength, will, and boundless and reckless courage. He does not know if this makes any difference, but there is nothing else he can do to offer him comfort. Mere touch alone would bring more pleasure- yes- but it would also bring pain.

Quiet moans leave Hamilton’s lips more frequently as time goes on.

When the young man is on the brink, Washington averts his eyes so he can finish.

Hamilton pants, eyes closed, and body covered in sweat and seed. He is likely trembling with the shockwaves of his climax of pleasurable torture.

Washington takes the canteen of water from the ground as the young man’s breathing begins to even out. When he turns to face Hamilton, his eyes are closed. Dark lashes against pale cheeks, in this moment, look like that of an angel.

With a gentle hand, he lifts Hamilton’s head and presses the canteen to his lips. With the first touch of water it seems as if every ounce of strength is bursting back and Hamilton is gulping down the water as quickly as possible.

The General watches his aide-de-camp with astonishment. It took him much longer to return to normalcy with the strength to do much of anything. He cannot help but ponder what the reason could be. Age? The fact that another Inferno is there for the Ignition? One was more suited to be an Inferno than the other? Whatever the reason, it is beyond his ability to discern.

When Hamilton finally lowers the canteen, his eyes settle on Washington. There is an overwhelming weight in his gaze that was not there before. The flames burning behind his eyes are near tangible. Had Washington not been an Inferno himself, he is sure he would have crumbled under the weight of the righteousness in his eyes.

“Sir?”

A warm smile. “Alexander.”

Those eyes hold just as much expression as they were before the Fire took hold of him. It sends a warmth through Washington to know that regardless of his new status, Hamilton is still the same boy as he was before.

“What time is it?”

A dismissive wave. “It does not matter. There are more important questions you need to ask.”

Such cryptic responses cause that Fire to roar with indignation. The General is hard pressed to keep his military bearing in the face of it.

After several minutes, the Fire calms into a thoughtful blaze. When Hamilton finally speaks, it is slow and indecisive. “What happened to me?”

This earns a proud smile. “You are an Inferno. It seems that your Inner Fire has finally decided now is the time to come to fruition.”

“Inferno? I didn’t… I never thought- me?” Hamilton is sitting upright completely, hand running through his loose hair as his eyes begin to read something in the air before him, as if it would give him the answers he seeks. In the end he whispers, “Why?”

“Why does anyone become an Inferno?” Washington does not give him the chance to respond. “We are meant to carry out the Will that sparked it. We will either meet the goal of making our country free or we will die trying. That is all.”

“But why not whole armies?”

Washington has to remind himself that Hamilton is not as well-read on this particular branch of study as himself. Most of what he’s learned has been told to him throughout his life, scattered scraps of knowledge that seemed to hold no merit. He forgives this lapse in study within his heart, but he vows to have Hamilton read and study of the Infernos.

“There are many theories on why so few are chosen to be Infernos. The most popular theory is that the Lord Almighty places a hand on an individual destined for greatness. Some Infernos- such as Gaius Terentius Varro- fail, but their Will was so powerful that they got much further than anyone would think.

“Another popular theory- and I believe this is very much the case rather than the former, blasphemous as it may be- is that the collective Will of the people settle on one they have chosen, consciously or not, to carry out said Will. Some- like me- become Inferno at a much older age while others- like yourself- are chosen much younger. Either way, the Will collects slowly as a Fire and soon you reach an Ignition point where you will either crumble under the pressure or have the strength to shoulder it.”

Hamilton’s eyes search his for a long moment. “Do you know what my Will is?”

“No.” Washington raps his fingers against his knee. “Despite popular belief, we cannot look into the eyes of another Inferno and know their Will. We are not privy to such information unless it is spoken to us. We may have theories, but we will never truly know.”

“I see.”

And he does. His mind is processing everything much faster than most would, but this is not because of his Fire. Rather, it is because this is how his mind has always functioned.

“Now that you are Ignited,” Washington’s demeanor becomes commanding, “you will take command of a battalion and we can make plans to make a final strike against the British.”

Fiery eyes look up at him with an expression that said he finally put the pieces together. “You planned for me to take command after I became one… how did you know?”

Pride fills his chest as he looks at the young man. “I saw the beginning of Fire in your eyes. You’ve always had more than most. It was only after a period of observation that I realized what was happening. From there, it was a matter of adding fuel and waiting. From the moment I saw you, I knew you would be great.”

The soft smile that is given in response is enough to make him want to gather Hamilton in his arms and never let him go. He wants that genuine smile to never leave his face.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

His brows furrow in confusion as he idly plays with the blanket on his lap. “And why did you not tell me before?”

“I could not take a chance of regressing your progress. You had to come to this on your own.”

“With a little encouragement.”

Washington cannot help the wry grin. “With encouragement.”

Hamilton sits up straight, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. “When do I head out, sir?”

“One week. In the meantime, you will keep up correspondence with the other battalions and once we get word from Lafayette, we will make plans to make a final, devastating strike against the British with the intelligence we have from Mulligan. Are you prepared for this?”

Hamilton’s eyes were bright before, but they seem impossibly bright as they blaze with barely contained excitement. “Yes sir.”


End file.
